Nineteen Stories of Whoufflé
by Dancer-With-Duende
Summary: Nineteen stories featuring The Eleventh Doctor and Clara or sometimes Jenna Louise Coleman and Matt Smith. Why nineteen? This is a tribute for my eighteen classmates, (with me, nineteen) now that we are finishing eleventh grade and becoming Seniors. This will proceed in rollcall order, so my number is supposed to be 12 but I'll be the last one. Prompt#2: Rapture
1. Drunk

Prompt #1: DRUNK

Series: Doctor Who

Characters: Clara Oswin Oswald and The Doctor

Genre: Romance(?)

Disclaimer: This is a series of one-shots, nineteen to be exact. Why nineteen? Because in a few days I'll be out of school and will start being a Senior, so I want to honor my eighteen classmates, that with me, are nineteen. So each one-shot will be written specially for one person, I´ll follow the roll call order we have at school, so this one-shot is for my friend Ana Patricia, she is #1 in roll call order. So, if you are reading this, I was very glad I had you in my class. :´)

_**DRUNK: **_

_v._

_Past participle of drink._

_adj._

_**1.**_

_**a. **__Intoxicated with alcoholic liquor to the point of impairment of physical and mental faculties._

_**b. **__Caused or influenced by intoxication._

_**2. **__Overcome by strong feeling or emotion: __drunk with power._

They had landed in the ninth moon of Poosh, very famous for the cocktails they served in the recreational area of the planet. The sky there was blue-green and the habitants were a mix of humanoid forms with animal features. Of course, the Doctor had insisted of coming out there alone, for he had no wish to poison Clara with any of the new cocktails they served. They had a variety of over three hundred and twenty seven cocktails and he wasn´t sure if any of those were any good for beautiful, fragile and human Clara. The Doctor didn't want to lose her, not now, not ever. After all, she was the only one who knew the truth of his past. She saved him from himself again after meeting his Tenth self and his Other self, and he had no intention to lose her. Because if he ever lost her, he would be lost forever, he thought grimly, striding with long steps towards the entrance of the most famous pub in the Poosh System.

The pub was called The Snuggly Duckling, the name made the Doctor frown; the weird name had a weird aftertaste when he pronounced slowly. He was later assaulted by many drunkards, from many planets and solar systems around the Universe, and sat forcefully on the bar. The barman eyed him over his heavy spectacles, cleaning four gigantic jugs, at the same time, with his eight tentacles. The octopus barman leaned down and regarded him with mirth, his tentacles leaving the clean jugs in their rightful place. The Doctor looked up at the chalkboard menu, the different combinations and cocktails. The pub was filled with many crying, laughing beings. As well as many folks destroying tables and growling at everyone. People were making love to their tonic and gin, to their partners. People were snogging, snuggling and smothering others with kisses and light touches in the dim lights. Others were dancing, enraptured with an imaginary music in their heads. Singing, swearing, crying, touching, laughing and so many things happening in just one place, with no apparent reason. The only one who was calm enough was the Octopus Barman, looking at everyone indifferently through his circular spectacles.

"What would you like son?" asked the Octopus Barman with a rough Italian accent. The Doctor shrugged and looked up at the menu again.

"Do you serve in here some banana daiquiri?" he asked, feeling silly suddenly, with all the combinations this bar and all he wanted was a banana daiquiri.

"No, I think you don't understand, son. We ask you what you want, like relieve any memory, feel happy, sad, things like that, and then we serve it to you. Here we can make you feel powerful with only one cup of Plutonian Asphodel Rum, or serve a jug of Aconite Beer to make you feel the saddest person alive. We mix love and hatred and lust, in one Ashwinder Tequila. So let me ask you again, what would you like, son?"

Suddenly, the Doctor understood everyone seemed to be in the extreme side of an emotion. This place was famous not for the drinks it served, but for the after effects it caused. He sighed, the image of his current companion and the events from last week coming to haunt him. He was tired of remembering the sad times. He wanted to remember the good times. But with all of his companions, his travels were cut short by one or another tragic event. Rose in another dimension living happily with the Metacrisis version of him, probably happy and married and with children. His all yellow and pink Rose was probably happy with Tentoo, or David, as he insisted on being called, but not with him. Martha, with her broken heart by him, the Girl Who Walked The Earth, with Mickey The Idiot, married and happy. Donna. Oh, Donna Noble, the Most Important Woman in the Universe. She forgot him, and everything she became. Days on end lost for her. His best mate. Then, his Ponds. Amy and Rory Pond, trapped in an era where they weren't born. With no way out, no way in. Amy was like his little sister and Rory was the Nose, the Last Centurion. The most loyal man he had ever known. And then River. His River Song, his future, his wife, dead in another time. A side effect of being a time traveler. And the list of people grew on and on. But there was only one person who was not lost. One person he had with him, his Soufflé Girl, his Impossible Girl. The girl who died for him thousands of times. Someone who saved him for a change. She was there, in his TARDIS, waiting for him, perhaps baking a soufflé and burning it down again. Or reading or fighting with his ship. His two girls, the TARDIS and Clara. His Clara. His beautiful, perfect, fragile and human Clara. His impossibly immortal Clara, the girl who took a high amount of Artron Energy and still lived. So he made up his mind and asked for the strongest thing they had to make him fall more and more with someone, to make him brave. To make him drunk of her.

"A Moonstone brew with rose thorns and daffodils cider for the gentleman, it is!" cried the Barman, his tentacles working at top speed preparing the peppermint infused concoction for The Doctor. The Doctor looked amazed at the octopus-like man, how his eight tentacles never stopped and worked with a practiced fluidity, pouring and blend the mystery substance. Finally, the Octopus Barman, named Alcalino according to his nametag, poured with a flourish the lilac drink in a tall glass. Murmuring a quick thanks to Alcalino, he downed the drink with wide eyes. The drink, even though it was lilac in colour, had a peppermint smell and tasted of chocolate. And as it went down his throat, he felt warmth all over his body, and all he could see was brown and chocolate. All he could see was Clara´s brown eyes, her brown hair strewn around her, her entire self being of chocolate. Of passion. His two hearts beat faster at the thought of her, and without much more, he asked for another glass of the Moonstone brew. And that's how he spent four hours, drinking the lilac concoction, over and over again.

Meanwhile, Clara spent her time alone exploring the vast rooms inside the TARDIS, the pool, the library, four wardrobes, three kitchens, many storage rooms and so on and so forth. At the end, she grew tired and decided to wait for her Doctor downstairs the main console room, sitting in his swing, her feet dangling, not even touching the floor below. It was so quiet, with only the low hum of the ship and the dimmed lights that she fell asleep in that swing of his. The last days with him replaying in her head, the three Doctors, the empty shack in the middle of some desert and how they saved Gallifrey from burning. Gallifrey burns, no more.

So it was quite the surprise when the doors slammed open and she heard a body falling to the ground in the entrance of the TARDIS. With her hear beating fast, she climbed the stairs, two at a time, and found the Doctor, lying on the cold, glass pane floor, muttering some gibberish that was probably in Gallifreyan. She went to his side, looking for any wound, but when she found none, she just sat there, looking puzzled at the languid form of the Doctor, strewn all over the floor, looking at the ceiling dazzled. When she got near to his face to poke him in the cheek, she smelled on him the cause of his fainting. At first she grew angry, because he looked like a drunk baby giraffe, but then stopped in her tracks, as he was staring not at the ceiling, but at her. With soft ancient, green eyes, and a small smile on his lips.

"Just, what the hell Doctor? Are you drunk?" she asked, brown eyes shining with intensity. The Doctor never stopped smiling at her the whole time he tried to sit up. Suddenly, he embraced her, burying his head in her shoulder, inhaling her perfume, which in fact smelt of molten chocolate.

"Clara, I never got to tell you how much I adore you. Or to thank you for saving me from myself. Oh, for Rassilon's sake, you smell like chocolate!" he exclaimed, confusing Clara even more.

"Where you were Doctor? You are worrying me." She whispered to him, hands flying to take his face into her small, delicate hands. He took her hands into his, and put his forehead to hers.

"I went to the most famous pub in this solar system. They had over three hundred types of cocktails! I couldn't stop drinking!"

"So you are drunk!" she exclaimed, frowning.

"Yes! But you don't understand, they didn't serve normal alcohol! They served emotions, memories! So I asked the most strong mix of Moonstone Brew! And you know what it made me feel!?" he asked, taking her face into his hands, looking at her with such intensity that made her heart beat faster than ever before, her entire face went red.

"What did it make you feel, Doctor?" she asked, her voice a soft murmur in his ears.

"It made me remember all the times I've been with you, when we danced, when we ran, everything. And it reminded me of you. And made me love you even more than I did. And then I realized I wasn't drunk on alcohol, but that I was drunk on you and you alone, Clara!", Clara looked at him with wide brown eyes, her mouth agape and she felt light headed. And all she could think of was _'oh my star_s! _He loves me! He loves me so!'_ "I was drowning in all of you! It made me brave to do this!" with that, the Doctor dove in and captured her lips with kiss, kissing her ever so gently, with all the love that his twin hearts could give.

_Because being drunk doesn't always involve alcohol, you can be drunk on power, on love, on hatred or any emotion. But the best kind of drunkenness is to be drunk on the person you love the most. That way, you will never stop being drunk. _


	2. Rapture

Prompt #2: RAPTURE

Series: Doctor Who

Characters: Jenna Louise Coleman and Matt Smith

A/N: Hello again! Thanks for all of your positive feedback; it has been very much appreciated. Someone noticed me of a typo in the last chapter, so if you read that, sorry. Haha, I think I rushed up a bit the first chapter so a small typo escaped me! Let's get down to business (to defeat the Huns?) with this new drabble we've got here. Today, I ventured in the relationship of Matt and Jenna's, I don't know if they like each other or not, but I gotta say they've got some serious chemistry working between them, so this oneshot was born. This is dedicated to my friend Brian, he is #2 in roll call. I hope you enjoy this if you are reading this. I'm sorry if it has been too much, but I've been studying for my finals throughout all week and I also have my dance recital due this Saturday, for which I've been rehearsing for hours on end. And I'm very much tired. Thanks again for your patience, read on!

_**RAPTUR**__E:_

_n._

_1. __The state of being transported by a lofty emotion; ecstasy._

_2. __An expression of ecstatic feeling. Often used in the plural._

_3. __The transporting of a person from one place to another, especially to heaven._

_tr.v.__rap·tured__, __rap·tur·ing__, __rap·tures_

_To enrapture._

The 23th of November of 2013 marked the 50th anniversary to Doctor Who, the series she was enacting the character of Clara Oswald for. It had been so much fun, meeting Matt at the beginning of series seven, and then in the making of The Day Of The Doctor. Then she met Billie and John and David and it was the most fun she had forever in the set. David was the funniest guy she had ever met, followed closely by Matt, of course. Billie was a relief to her, some girl talk here and there as well as some tips for her career. John had been such a sweetie to her and of course she couldn´t just forget Matt. Matt who was the sweetest guy in the world to her, her rock and anchor in this business she was delving in, and he was such a good friend. Whenever he took her hand in his to make a scene in some part, she would feel an electrical surge pouring from his skin to hers. Butterflies danced in her belly and she almost fell on her bum once when he had touched her cheek with such gentleness. A gentleness nobody had ever graced her with. His eyes held so much warmth and his beautiful smile made her lips curl in a peaceful grin. Oh, she was so smitten, like she had never been. She liked how he towered over her in a protective fashion, or how little to no personal space whatsoever she had when he was near. Pulling his body close to hers, unintentionally, like a piece of metal being attracted by a powerful magnet. And when he pulled her close to hug her, _'oh, my stars!'_ she´d go and blush profusely, gripping at the back of his jacket, never wanting to let go of his embrace. But in that moment she wasn't herself, she was the spunky and sassy Clara, and Matt was the ancient and wise Doctor. But who would ever judge her if she ever wished her character was real and his was real too? They could be together. Or maybe not, Moffat was like God, he acted in such mysterious ways that he always kept guessing the fans. And also making them cry. But that's another story for another time.

At the end of the film, just when she kisses the Doctor lightly near the lips (but never ever in the lips), and rubs her thumb against his cheek, oh how she wishes Moffat had conjured a kiss in the lips just for her! If only she could kiss him in the lips again like in the Snowmen! Just a tiny peck on the lips and that´s it, but no, sometimes you get what you want, and others, you just don't get them at all. Would it be safe to say that she wished Matt to look at her like he did when he was the Doctor and she was Clara? Jenna, who was in fact quite shy in contrast to the character she portrayed, wanted Matt all for herself. Who would be crazy enough to say that he wasn't the cutest, dorkiest and most gorgeous man in the whole of the world? Jenna always found herself mesmerized by him. All of him, his face, his hands, the way he smiled, how he smelled and the velvety sound of his voice made her go all pudding-like in the knees. But she doesn't complain one bit, it was the very least she could have of Matt. For her, it was all she could get. Or that was what she thought before the release of The Day Of The Doctor.

Just that day they were releasing the film into the theaters around London and the rest of the world, Matt proposed a very odd idea to Jenna. He wanted to see the special in the theater as a normal person would, without the cameras, the big flashes and oh, the paparazzi. So he just knocked that afternoon relentlessly Jenna's door. Jenna was in that moment watching telly and exterminating her Belgian chocolate ice cream pot that could feed a party of twenty five-year-old kids high on candy floss. She was wearing her favourite Flutter Shy pajamas and her hair done up in a messy bun. When she heard the door being mutilated multiple times she sighed and got up from her comfy sofa, taking her ice cream with her. Her nude feet made their way from the cozy carpet to the cold wooden panes of the floor. When she opened her door, she had expected to see the pizza man or old lady Josie from flat number thirteen asking her if she could get her lazy cat from the top of the closet. What she did not expect was Matt Smith, in the flesh, and wearing a long raincoat, covering his face. She almost dropped her big bowl of ice cream from the shock. And all she was wearing were her bloody My Little Pony pj´s!

"Hey there, Jenna! Can I come in?" he exclaimed, grin perched atop his lips, green eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Y-yeah, come on in, want some ice cream?" she provided numbly, cheeks coloring when he gave her a funny once over, noticing her pajamas, and raising his eyebrow, amazed at her red cheeks for a moment.

"So you like MLP, then?" he asked, sitting on the sofa, kicking out his shoes. His raincoat still bound around him, he put his hands inside his pockets.

"Yeah, been a fan since last year. Did you know they have a pony that looks like a pony version of the Doctor?" she said, taking the other side of the couch, sitting her feet on Matt's lap, digging into her ice cream again.

"Nope. Hey, can I get a spoonful of that?" he asked, removing his raincoat, showing off his flannel pajama bottoms and his banana T-shirt. He noticed the chocolate moustache Jenna had and chucked at her from his perch on the coach. "Belgian chocolate again, Jenna? I would say you have a problem and that you need an intervention, but I´m banana balls over Belgian chocolate too." He said, putting his feet up in the coffee table as he made grabby hands to Jenna for her to pass on the bowl of ice cream.

"So, I don´t want to seem pushy or whatever, but, what are you doing in my flat, O Time Lord?" She asked, licking her upper lip to clean the excess of chocolate there. But her tongue wasn't long enough to reach her nose, so she just shrugged and passed Matt the bowl of her favourite chocolate.

"I was wondering if I could watch the Doctor Who special with you in your flat. Would that be okay with you?" he asked, taking a big spoonful and swallowing, closing his eyes, because _'holy crap, this ice cream is the best!'_

"Yup, totally fine with me." She said, popping the 'p' as she got her blue, fluffy blanket over the two of them, enjoying the comfortable silence between the two of them.

The afternoon continued like this, Jenna and Matt sitting comfortably in Jenna's couch, eating junk food and laughing at the many memories they held of the making of series seven. Like the time Matt was twirling around the console room and his feet caught on some of the stray wires lying in the ground. It was fair to say that he fell unceremoniously on his bum, the air catching up in his throat. Or maybe the time where Jenna fell down the red fluid in Crimson Horror when she was pinching Matt's cheeks whilst he was in the tub full of red goo. Because she surprised him so, he took her arm and threw her in with him. Needless to say, Moffat wasn't a happy camper that day.

Over the hours they found themselves more and more near to each other, the space between them was reducing and their shoulders touching slightly. Until she had her head nestled in the crook of his neck and his arm found its way around Jenna's waist. And the telly was playing just the scene Jenna had problems with. The kiss-on-the-cheek scene, where she had wanted to kiss him fully on the lips, snogging for quite some time until Moffat had to separate them. Obviously, that only happened in her head. She was lucky enough to receive hugs and chaste pecks on her cheeks, courtesy of Matt. She was concentrating so much in the telly, the no-kiss scene, that she didn't even notice Matt looking at her the whole time. In fact, she was so focused in hiding her flustered heartbeat and her blushed cheeks from Matt that his constant staring passed unnoticed to her. He had passed the past two hours glancing at her from the corner of his eyes, and last thirty minutes looking at her relentlessly without much of a blush. He was just sitting there, with Jenna at his side, watching with rapt attention as she blinked, smiled, frowned and ate her ice cream. He was enraptured by her flushed cheeks, her messy hair, the chocolate stains surrounding her mouth. The way her brown eyes shined with tears, how she smiled, her lips curving into that sweet smile he only knew, he wanted to have her all for himself. He deemed himself very lucky, to work alongside such natural beauty. To have her friendship invested in him. How huggable she was when he embraced her, how she snuggled up into his arms and all the warmth that spread through his entire being, it was endearing. Whenever he looked at her, his heart would double beat, and he would try to calm his heart down just enough so people in Ireland could stop hearing his accelerated heart. He was sure people were woken up at night to the sound of the incessant drum that was his heart when he thought of Jenna just before falling asleep.

So when the scene where Clara came to kiss the Doctor's cheek, he looked at her again. Just enough to catch in her eyes the same longing he had. His Adam's apple moved slightly, and he wetted his lips yet again (some bad habit he was trying to break). He had Jenna in his lap in a second, and in other he was peering into her eyes. She squealed from the surprise and her ice cream bowl came tumbling down the couch. Both looked at each other, enraptured in the eyes of the other, and just when the final credits were rolling down the telly, they were kissing softly. After the screen turned black and sounds stopped pouring out the telly, they separated.

"Wow." She said, eyes shining and with a playful smile perched on her face.

"You've got no idea how much I wanted Moffat to include this kind of kiss in the anniversary special." He whispered to her, face heating up instantly.

"Make it double."

_The night I laid my eyes on you__  
__I felt everything around me move__  
__Got nervous when you looked my way__  
__But you knew all the words to say__And your love slowly moved right in__  
__All this time, oh my love, where you been__Mi amore__  
__Don't you know__  
__My love I want you so__  
__Sugar__  
__You make my soul complete__  
__Rapture tastes so sweet__  
__-Rapture by IIO_


End file.
